Page 75 of Artfully Wild
“No, it’s okay,” Dad answers, patting the doctor on the shoulder, and wrapping his arms around my mom. “We’ll give you some privacy.”
Mom comes over and frames my face with her hands, eyes shining with tears. “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby. And I’m…”
I pull her into a hug before she can get the words out, because I know what she wants to say, what she feels like she has to say. “Don’t. We didn’t know,” I whisper. “It’s not your fault.” She cries until she takes a deep breath and pulls away, but not before placing a firm kiss to my forehead. Walking back to my dad she softly pats Skylar on the cheek and Dr. Adams steps outside the door with them, leaving Skylar and I alone.
Skylar. She stayed. With her past experience of hospitals, I fully expected her to go home and check on me later, but she didn’t. She’s still here.
“You’re here,” I croak out through the already dry mouth, and tears.
“Where else did you think I’d be?” She shrugs.
“Anywhere else.” I try to make it sound like a joke, but the landing doesn’t stick.
With a slight hesitation, she moves to the side of my bed and carefully lowers herself onto it. She takes my hand with the IV in the back of it and she opens my palm, planting a kiss on the inside before bringing it to her face. “When are you going to get it through your head that I am never going to leave you? You’re officially stuck with me, Sinclair.”
“Thank god for that, little sparrow.” I pull her to me like I have so many times before, but this time, I know in my bones, in my soul, this is the only person I will ever have by my side for the rest of eternity. She has saved my life more times than she will ever know apart from this one.
The door creaks open as Dr. Adams returns to the room. “Sorry to interrupt. I gave you as much time as I could, but I have a few other patients to see before my shift is over.”
Skylar sits with me as the doctor has me walk through everything I remember, with her filling in any of the blanks. She explains the type of seizure I had and that I might have been having them for a while without even knowing. The day in the resort when Skylar came in and I was in the middle of making hot chocolate, I had zoned out, but she said it seemed like it was more. Dr. Adams thinks that could have been a seizure at the time. A type of seizure called an absence seizure that can be triggered by migraines. The one I had when Sky called an ambulance was a different type of seizure which can also be triggered by migraines.
She goes on to explain a condition called migralepsy, where certain types of migraines with specific symptoms can trigger seizures. She tells me there are medications that are used to manage it or possible surgery later on if the medicines don’t work, but it’s something that I’ll most likely have to manage for the rest of my life and I’ll more than likely experience more seizures.
For the time being though, she’s “optimistic there’s finally a diagnosis for the condition I have.” Considering so many doctors said I just had chronic migraines, I guess I’m optimistic too.
How long have I been having seizures? Could I have been having them for years and not have known it? She did say it was possible, but with the way my migraines have been progressing, I’d bet the seizures started over the last few years.
I wanted answers and now that I have them, it feels more daunting than being left in the dark. We’ve moved one step forward, but the next step is cluttered with a thousand more questions that I have to navigate through.
All I can think of is that it’s just one more thing I have to add to my ever shrinking plate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SKYLAR
“Are you ready for this?” I ask Jacob as he places one of the last paintings up for auction up on the stage.
“I think so.”
“How are you feeling?” I cringe, knowing he’s about to scold me for asking that question for the millionth time. But I can’t help it. My stress level since his trip to the hospital has been way higher on top of making sure everything else is ready for the auction, while also making sure he doesn’t overdo it.
Like I expected, he levels me with a glare, followed by his arms wrapping around me and squeezing me to his firm chest. “I promise you, sweetheart, I am fine. And if I’m not or I’m not later, Iwilltell you.” He kisses the top of my head and I let myself breathe out a long stream of air, believing him.
After weeks of painting in the studio and…well,notpainting in the studio, the Winter Festival is finally open and the pet portraits are fully on display. They turned out amazing. I was skeptical as hell, but as good as I am with landscapes, I am apparently just as good with portraits.
I think it helps that at the end, I went back and added some Blue Grove scenery in the background. It just felt right to add alittle bit of home to them rather than have it be a plain colored background.
And thanks to Charlotte’s advertising, website design and constant social media presence—I swear she missed her calling—the tourists this year are more than Blue Grove has ever seen. The inn is booked to capacity and Mr. Camp mentioned in our last phone call that all of his rooms and cabins on the grounds were booked too.
“Miss Waters.” Speak of the devil. I turn to see Camp walking toward me donning a long black coat and matching black gloves. “I was hoping I’d be able to find you.”
“Hi there, Camp. What can I help you with?”
“Well, I was going to send everything to you over email, but figured I’d do it personally since everyone was going to be here anyway and I wanted to get to the festival. It’s been too long since I’ve been here. Years, really.”
A look of sadness crosses his eyes and I’m not sure what to take from that.
“Wait, all the paperwork?”
